


"WHERE BEPIS?" - A primer in ancient anatomy

by Dadbeat



Category: Final Fantasy XIV
Genre: Cloaca, Final Fantasy XIV: Shadowbringers Spoilers, M/M, Monster sex, Other, Oviposition, Patch 5.0: Shadowbringers Spoilers, Post-Canon, Questionable Anatomy, amaurotines are eldritch blobs i will die on this hill, humor???, in this world everyone bigmonster, mostly porn with worldbuilding, out of context this is all just weird monster sex but idc
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-21
Updated: 2020-06-21
Packaged: 2021-03-03 22:42:31
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,388
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24833287
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Dadbeat/pseuds/Dadbeat
Summary: A Very Panicked, Very Confused Warrior of Light confronts Emet-Selch about precisely what they used to get up to when the world was whole.
Relationships: Solus zos Galvus | Emet-Selch & Warrior of Light, Solus zos Galvus | Emet-Selch/Warrior of Light
Kudos: 39





	"WHERE BEPIS?" - A primer in ancient anatomy

Emet-Selch’s laugh is full-throated, genuine, and leaves Altruoix blushing _furiously_ \- and not just from embarrassment. The ascian’s long arms snake round from behind, finding their way beneath his nightshirt to press at the bare skin of his abdomen.

“ _This_ is what you interrupted breakfast for? My, you must truly be distressed-- But fret not, my dear.” With a fond sigh, he presses a kiss atop Altruoix’s head. “You’ve not lost anything. In fact -” his hands dip lower, prodding gently at the join of his crossed thighs. “Well, why don’t I show you? It would seem a proper... _explanation_ is in order.”

Letting go of Altruoix, Emet-Selch drops back onto the couch. With a snap, the morning’s tea, kettle and all, relocates itself to the side table . After a moment of thought, Altruoix joins him, accepting a proffered mug.

“I explained before - to you and your friends, I recall - that we ascians are able to shape our forms at will.”

Altruoix merely nods, sipping his tea as he shifts, crossing one leg over and then the other.  
“This power was not one we gained suddenly. All of Amaurot could do such a thing, in varying capacities, and was not limited to the superficial, but to everything - even our most base anatomy, if one wished it.”

There’s a grimace through lazy curls of steam.

“So you’re saying I’ve accidentally lopped my dick off, somehow.” the fingers of Altruoix’s free hand massage the bridge of his nose. “Is there a way to get it back?”

The question has Emet-Selch rolling his eyes even as he pulls Altruoix up into his lap.

“Crude _and_ inaccurate. I haven’t stuttered, have I?” With a knee he nudges the elezen’s legs. “Tch. Do not fear, I only bite when asked.” With a snort, and an eyeroll of his own, Altruoix’s sallow thighs shift open to give Emet-Selch a full view of his altered body.

“Well?” Altruoix mutters, placing down his cup. “On with it, before I die of shame.” He’s suddenly very fascinated by the throw rug. 

“It’s nothing I haven’t seen before,” Emet-Selch says, gently, tipping his partner’s head back up to capture his lips in a kiss. “Nothing _you_ haven’t seen before, either - and though that memory may escape you, we shall create one anew.” The words drift off into a rumble, long digits brushing a mound bare except for a smattering of hair and a long, slender cleft.

Even that barest touch has him shuddering. Altruoix is wholly unprepared for the sensations shooting through fresh nerves and he scrabbles for purchase against Emet-Selch each time his fingers make contact. It causes Emet-Selch to laugh again - though this time it’s low, and tinged with lust.

“So sensitive,” he purrs. “Just imagine what it might feel like -” his fingers dip into the slit, pushing it open. “- _with me inside you._ ”

Altruoix doesn’t have a coherent response. The intrusion has him moaning like a whore, hips pushing down in an attempt to get more penetration out of Emet-Selch’s ministrations. The ascian obliges, fingers crooking to stroke forward flesh where, unbeknownst to Altruoix, something _throbs,_ straining to push forth into open air. 

_ <<Come.>> _ Emet-Selch’s fingers pump once, twice. _ <<Let me show you the delights of the Ancients.>> _Curl. Press. Rub. 

<< _See what you once were. >> _

Magic sparks between engulfed digits as they twist against that spot, just so.

Altruoix arches back against Emet-Selch, whole body going taut as sobs turn to chime. His erection _surges_ from within him, out his vent into full view. It drips both pre and slick, its pulsing length begging for touch.

<< _Hades. >> _ Vocal chords strain to produce the requisite tones. The result is only a crude approximation of the ancient tongue - but its harmony swells to join Emet-Selch's. << _P-please, I’m… >> _his fingers fumble with the ascian’s breeches, nearly tearing them off in his haste. 

He’s through with imagining.

As Emet-Selch kicks off his smallclothes Altruoix wastes no time. His shyness has been replaced with raw _need_ , and shamelessly he dips inside himself, fingers working his own hole as expertly as any other maiden’s. Dripping fingers withdraw to grab Emet-Selch’s length, lubricating it thoroughly before lining it up with his entrance.

It’s clenching, begging to be filled. Then, with a thrust - it **_is_ **.

<< **_Yeeeesssss._ ** _ >> _Arms throw themselves about Emet-Selch’s neck, and the ascian can feel talons pricking at his back. Sharp nails of his own drag raised welts down Altruoix’s chest, hand grabbing his erection to pump in time with the bounce of their bodies. 

With an ease that belies his inexperience the warrior sheds the trappings of mortality, and Emet-Selch cannot help but follow. Darkness swells, engulfing the man in his lap, filling his mouth and nose to further facilitate the change. Twinned gilt gazes meet and Altruoix coos appreciatively, drinking deep of the offering and allowing the humid blanket of shadow to spin round his already soaking core.  
  
Each thrust splatters wetness across their lower halves, now. It’s thick with aether, heady with power, and only serves to further the pace of their lovemaking. The frantic movement loosens Altruoix’s ponytail until finally the tie falls free, silver cascading down to stick to skin damp with sweat. It smells of rosemary and ink and so does his slick, mingling with Emet-Selch’s petrichor and leather, essences entwining as they push towards their peaks.

Balanced as they are upon the join of man and More that with their beings unfurled it is inevitable that they eventually tip. A second pair of eyes lance open above Emet-Selch’s manicured brows as bleached pinfeathers sprout across Altruoix’s shoulderblades, crawling up his neck and down his arms- then the skin of his back parts, wings bursting forth in a shower of ichor. An armspan and a half in length, their frantic flapping knocks over the tea kettle and rattles the lamps but neither seem to care. It isn’t long before a second pair unfolds. They draw about the man below as Altruoix slams down for a final time with a polyphonic **_howl._ **

Cum tinged azure ruins Emet-Selch’s shirt, thick ropes that leave dripping lines of color across the silk. Going still, muscles tensing, he finishes with his own cry, bass chimes twining with Altruoix’s soprano gasping. His grip on Altruoix’s chest turns bruising, then bloody, nails puncturing a pectoral as he _strains._

What enters Altruoix is not just semen. Neither is it the ooze of raw aether. They’re **_spheres_ **\- the energy of creation shaped by ancient indulgence to ensure he will stay full even after Emet-Selch has left him.

He knows not how many are deposited, for each orb has his body reacting in primal pleasure. He loses track after the fifth, a second orgasm ripping through his already spent form, his dick only managing to leak blue down its shaft. The third has his wings beating the cushions of the couch open, stuffing filling the air as he is filled, Emet-Selch finally withdrawing soft to collapse backwards. With a pop of suction, he pulls his fingers free of Altruoix's chest, smearing red through white pinions as he strokes a wing. Sighing at the touch Altruoix too relaxes, curling up onto Emet-Selch’s chest to lounge, snagging the other hand in his own and placing them atop the bump in his abdomen.

“Did we, ah, do this often?” He rasps, lapsing back into common tongue at last. Lids drooping, he eyes the leaking wounds on his chest and mutters a healing spell while he's still able, muscle and skin knitting itself together until only the blood remains.

“Often enough.” Emet-Selch’s words are interrupted by a long yawn. “Though not as often as I’d liked. You were so _insistent_ about your work.” 

“Mmm.” Altruoix’ face nuzzles the short hairs at the nape of Emet-Selch’s neck. “Some things do not change, then.” His joined hand taps at the bump. “Will it--”  
  
“'Tis just aether, hero. In a few days it will absorb - power to do with what you will.”

Bright, tired chuckling fills the room. “How _generous,_ ” he replies. “Just think of how many ledgers I may balance with this boon.”

“Insufferable little shite.” Emet-Selch closes his eyes and pulls the wing he strokes to his lips, giving it a nip as they both settle in for a mid-morning nap. “Next time I will just empty it upon your face.”

**Author's Note:**

> i wholeheartedly apologize for my disaster bird son and his cryptid grandpa bf (no i don't).
> 
> A big thank you to all the other monsterfuckers in the Convocation discord who both enable and inspire me to create this absolute filth. I love you all dearly and I hope you especially enjoy T_T


End file.
